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Is there a statute of limitations on when New Year’s resolutions just become resolutions? I’m going to go with two weeks, since that allows me to fit this in.

In years past, the resolutions have been (intended as) a comedic venture, topped off with a dollop of at least one sincere resolution. But 2017 is arriving without a lot of my usual smartass spirit. Personally, things are moving in some pretty positive directions, quelling some of my natural tendency toward smarmy negativity. On a larger scale, things are potentially very scary, with all manner of sleazy, old (mostly white) men trying to bankrupt/kill/crap on everybody and everything that they can…and maybe, in light of recent allegations, also trying to get peed on.

I’ll try to keep it light and all, but…uh…whatever…here are my New Year’s resolutions for 2017…

Use real bookmarks, ffs. Yeah, so this hardly seems like an ambitious goal. But I figure, why not start with something totally doable. See, whenever I start up a new book, I tend to grab the nearest, least necessary (for other purposes) flat item to use as a bookmark. Recently, this has begun bothering me in increasing degrees, as if it is some baseline, pointing out my overall laziness—especially since I actually own numerous bookmarks—from the kind of free things that come from book stores or in the mail, to fancy, laminated, yarn-tassled, and even metal bookmarks, stamped with inspirational quotes and whatnot. If I’m going to continue resisting the encroaching press of digital reading devices in favor of real paper-and— well, ‘board’ doesn’t exactly sound right, as in ‘board books’—but books with paper and covers of various substances, mostly derived from trees and other plants—then I can at least take the time to pull a decent bookmark from my scattered collection to honor the passing of the pages.

Be in the world…at least a little more. One of those aforementioned positive personal changes is that I will be moving back to a schedule where I will be awake at semi-normal hours, and off work at hours when some other people I might want to see might also not be stuck at work. When your schedule is, as mine has been for the last 13+ months, overnight, including weekends, you don’t tend to just drop into parties, or dash out for a hike or a movie or a meal because a friend or two found themselves with some free time. You tend to spend your days off trying to force yourself into wakefulness during enough daytime hours that you can take a stab—or at least a weak swing—at normalcy…normalcy being things like not drinking a beer or three at 8:00 a.m., because that’s when you’re winding down from work…normalcy being things like not having to take a vacation day or two just to see some friends who live in the same flipping town, but don’t live on the same schedule as bats and opossums…normalcy being able to know for sure whether your months-long feeling of fatigue and dread is really something akin to clinical depression, or just the result of your work schedule. Looking forward to knowing that staying up late, or a lack of sleep, is more a lifestyle choice than a career-centered choice.

Be in the world…like, beyond the personal. I realized recently that all my “community involvement” in recent years has slipped down into the realm of cash donations, and the occasional phone call or (usually online) petition. This isn’t a bad thing, necessarily. I sign up for regular online donations with various organizations…at least until the ‘card on file’ has to be replaced due to security breaches, or one of numerous other reasons banks use to perpetually switch out the cards they issue, and I find myself ignoring the emails about my payments not processing. Still, there was a time…like the bulk of my life prior to my later-in-life stint in grad school, where I was engaged with the people around me…all trying to make a difference and shit. I rode along with my mom doing meals-on-wheels when I was in elementary school. In fact, the bulk of my pre-adult “community involvement” was whatever my mom enlisted me to do…and my mom’s level of community service was, and still is, legendary—well, at least among a cluster of Lutherans in suburban Oregon and at least a few other far-flung places. As a parent, I obsessively volunteered at the kid’s school(s)—and occasionally with her sports teams—up until she hit Jr. High–because, for most of that time, I was working out of my home—until that previously mentioned grad school stint hit. Did I mention I’ve never been a particularly high-energy person? Anyway, I want to find some way back into community involvement…charity or not…although my adjusted schedule still might make that a bit tricky…unless I want to donate time in the mornings before I go to work. Maybe I’ll just make sure I reinstate all those security-threatened, lapsed payments to various organizations.

–Will the presence of this ^…make this ^ more popular? …Or should I just stick with this ^?

Go full Bob’s Big Boy with the hair. I feel like I might be cribbing this from past years’ resolutions. I almost always have some kind of hair-based New Year’s resolution, and really, you can only make so many different hair-based resolutions when you’re a guy working an office-casual job. Anyway, if you’ve ever seen the mascot for Bob’s Big Boy restaurant, you know that his thick head of hair involves a part on one side, leading into a wave that culminates in something that—well, looks like an actual wave—like, on the ocean—or maybe like a shark fin and its wake as it cuts through the water. At any rate, I usually blow off getting my hair cut until I’ve got that basic Bob’s Big Boy thing starting up. Once my, as Frieda would say, naturally curly hair (although, really it’s more naturally wavy)—makes it past the 2.5-inch mark, every strand that is able clusters into a group, and fights to look like a surfer’s dream…or surfer’s nightmare…in fibrous protein form. With the Donald moving into the Presidency, sporting that ridiculous, spun-candied-glass, televangelist-inspired, hairdresser’s nightmare on top of his head, I figure my Big Boy wave will come into fashion—or serve as a sign of the impressive power that I wield. In conversation, I may have to start spitting out sentences more incoherent than those that I usually use (no small feat), so that people will realize I have a power haircut a la Tyrannosaurus Rump, and that it’s not just more of my lackadaisical grooming combined with sleep-deprived babbling. Either that, or I’ll just start getting it cut more often, so I don’t have to deal with the waves at all, and will only have to endure M telling me my latest haircut makes me look like a gorilla. But, secretly, I think she likes my gorilla look, so…

Finally…

Write more, write often, write regularly—or alternately—Less wasting time on social media…more clogging up my small corner of social media (as well as writing for reasons beyond social media). When I started the blog, the idea was to do a post a week…I figured that was a fairly modest goal, although coming up with topics, and writing anything that I feel like sharing can be quite the challenge at times. 2016 proved exceptionally rough, since upwards of 70% of all media attention was devoted to some assclown who is apparently about to be the most powerful man in the world, finally matching his beliefs about himself with a cliché people frequently use about the job he is about to take over. Of course, that only left 30% of media attention to be divvied up between things Kardashian, things involving lesser reality-TV stars, and every other thing happening in the world. Whatever the specific ratios, it was difficult finding the motivation to knock out pieces about how people should maybe not use mental-health diagnoses as insults, and perhaps try to make it a bit more difficult for people in the U.S. to shoot each other, when that aforementioned assclown was able to get so much media attention by suggesting that insults are the answer, and violence and vindictiveness are just good ol’ American solutions to political problems. So, yeah–may have to tune a lot of that out, to prevent the reeking verbal diarrhea of short-fingered vulgarians from getting me down, and allowing me to count myself out.

Well, so much for keeping it light. Umm…is it too late to say ‘Happy New Year’?

Before I can get to that hope-inspiring, joy-filled, forward-looking task of announcing my New Year’s resolutions for 2016, it’s tradition to take a measured look at the progress made toward the resolutions of the past year.

Typically, I would have completed the task of reviewing last year’s resolutions on New Year’s Eve, but I’m starting off the New Year a day behind already, so that I can quickly dispense with any resolve to finally get on top of things.

Typically, I also would have only done this through multiple postings on other forms of social media. But, out of resolve to be ignored more efficiently across multiple social media formats, I also decided to squeeze a blog post out of it. After all, I was going to put in the work one way or the other.

So, without further ado, here’s how I did with my resolutions for 2015.

Okay, I totally overplayed my hand at this one. I’d only been at my current job for two months at the beginning of 2015. HR shut this down before I even made it into the building that first, bright, shining Tuesday of 2015. But now that I’ve got a bit more experience under my belt—a belt I won’t be wearing with my unitard—it would potentially be a good time to revisit this issue. However, I no longer work on Tuesdays. Guess I’ll have to leave this on the back burner a bit longer.

Resolution 2: I resolve to establish the ultimate matrix for determining whether a ‘Men’s Rights’ Internet account or website is a parody account, or actually intended to be serious.

I plunged into this resolution by mapping out a research strategy. By my second research session, and the seventh or eighth website comments section, I realized that comedy, much like rationality, is highly subjective. At any rate, I had to admit that I couldn’t handle that level of hilarity/unhingedness in my life. Sorry, world.

Resolution 3: I resolve to thoroughly clean the master bathroom at least once this year; the main bathroom–no promises.

A resounding, if qualified, success. I thoroughly cleaned the master bathroom at least twice during 2015, just not all at the same time. You know—sink and mirror now…toilet and floor some other day…shower yet another day. I also fully lived up to the “no promises” aspect of the resolution as it relates to the main bathroom.

Resolution 4: I resolve to get over my aversion to ‘returning’ or ‘reciprocating’ high-fives. I feel it’s completely reasonable for me to not want to engage in high-fiving anybody. I just don’t like the awkwardness of leaving anybody hanging.

An abject failure. Aversion still solidly in place. On a somewhat more positive note, though, I managed to completely avoid all but four situations wherein a high-five was expected of me.

And finally–Resolution 5: I resolve to develop some wicked-cool comb-overs and/or stock up on Ronco spray-hair–y’know, just in case.

In hindsight, it feels like I set myself up for failure here. I mean, who would’ve thought that 2015 would be the year that the hair of male presidential candidates—including an incomparable, but structurally unsound, comb-over–would become a bigger topic than the hair of female presidential candidates—especially since the election isn’t until November of 2016? That said, I did not make any investment in the Ronco spray-hair, and remained pretty conservative with the comb-over styles. If I were to compare my comb-over style to the current batch of presidential candidates, it’s pretty much a Ted Cruz, but with the basic appearance of a Carly Fiorina.

Well, it sure feels great to take stock of all that’s happened, or not happened, in the past year. The unexamined life and all that…

Stay tuned for my slightly late resolutions for 2016, and Happy New Year!